


Impassive

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-14 10:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18051047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Rin hunches his shoulders against the strain against them, and stuffs his hands far into his pockets where they will be safe from whatever weird magnetism Haru carries in every line of his graceful body, and when he speaks it’s to the hard-packed earth beneath him instead of to the waiting attention of Haru’s stare." Rin has always craved the chance to break Haru's neutrality, but in the end it takes less effort than he ever expected.





	Impassive

Rin can’t look at Haru.

He wants to. He can feel the ache of it at the back of his head, tense in his shoulders, knotting against his spine. But if he turns his head he’ll see those water-blue eyes fixed on him, will have to face the stoic patience conveyed by the line of Haru’s shoulders turned to deliberately angle towards Rin in front of him, and he doesn’t know what he might say, what he might do for the need to draw a reaction out of that neutral stare. So he hunches his shoulders against the strain in them, and stuffs his hands far into his pockets where they will be safe from whatever weird magnetism Haru carries in every line of his graceful body, and when he speaks it’s to the hard-packed earth beneath him instead of to the waiting attention of Haru’s stare.

“Haru, what have you been doing the past three years?” There’s roughness on his voice, an edge under the words that grates without cutting. Rin is proud of that, as much for the restraint to hold him back from a shout as the gravel enough to cover up the thrumming tension that always seems to grip him when Haru is as near as he is. “You’re better than this.”

“I’m not better than someone who just got back from Australia.” There’s no heat on Haru’s voice at all, no emotion to match Rin’s own carefully-wound irritation. The crisp edges of the words seem to land the harder for how calm he sounds, as if the level plane of his voice might be a silent judgment for the rasp of Rin’s.

Rin frowns at the ground in front of him, his intentional distance forgotten in the flicker of anger that rises in answer to the possibility of taunting in Haru’s calm tone. He looks up before he can catch himself, before he can think the better of meeting Haru’s gaze. “Are you mocking me?”

“I’m not.” Even looking at him Rin can’t tell if Haru is sincere or not; even with the full focus of those eyes fixed on him Haru looks like he’s seeing through Rin, as if he’s lost in the crash and roar of his own thoughts and only barely present in this conversation that is causing such a storm in Rin’s chest. “You won our race.”

Rin scoffs in the back of his throat. “It’d be hard not to beat you, given the shape you’re in.”

Even that jab, more pointed than Rin had intended, doesn’t strike any sparks from Haru. “A win is a win.” His lashes dip, his gaze falls, as if he’s giving up surrender in this argument as easily as he gave up victory in their last match. “You won.” Haru’s gaze slides away, dropping to fix on the ground instead of on Rin at all. “Isn’t that enough?”

Rin’s jaw is tight, his heart is pounding. The loss of Haru’s attention feels like a greater blow than any words the other might offer, as if Haru’s deliberate passivity is a force too great for any of Rin’s efforts to ever match, as if there is no way for him to ever merit the true attention of those eyes on his face. “It’s not!” he snaps, bright and hard and flickering like sunlight over water for all the impact it has on Haru before him. “I want a real race!” Haru doesn’t look at him, doesn’t lift his head to answer the snap of Rin’s words, and Rin feels the chill of resignation settle into him in the loss of his temper, as his anger dissipates without any kind of resistance to force the wave of it back and into him once more. He lets his head drop, lets his gaze spill away from the rejection in Haru’s absent attention and down to the dusty footprints laid into the dry earth under their feet. When he speaks the words are to that dust, as much for his own ears as with any real hope of making it past the wall of Haru’s inattention. “Or else...I can’t move on.”

Haru shifts, turning his head away to draw his gaze away from Rin and angle his shoulders in the other direction. Rin’s gaze slides up in spite of himself, cutting sideways to watch Haru’s face as the other’s mouth tightens for a moment of irritation as petulant as Rin has ever seen in him.

“You’re a pain.” Haru turns aside entirely, as if he’s deliberately cutting off Rin’s focus on the set expression of his face, and he doesn’t look back as he takes a step away. “I only swim free. I won’t swim for you.”

The words ring in Rin’s ears, thrumming loud enough to drown out the sound of his breathing, to muffle over the rhythm of his heart pounding in his chest. He stares at Haru’s back, at the line of the other’s shoulders under his t-shirt as he walks away, his motion as easy as if he’s in the water, as uncaring of Rin’s gaze holding to him as he has ever been in their races. He doesn’t look back, as he’s never looked back; and Rin’s feet move of their own accord, lunging him forward and into a run made clumsy on desperation while his mind still lags behind in the blow of Haru’s words landing like a slap across his face. Haru doesn’t look back, doesn’t turn even at the heavy thud of Rin’s footfalls landing against the ground beneath them, and Rin reaches out to close his hand on Haru’s shoulder and pull hard enough to drag him back and around.

Rin doesn’t mean to pull as hard as he does. His movement is reflexive, an expression of a desperation running too deep for him to try to restrain it with an application of logic. But there’s less resistance too, none of the wall of rejection that he expects to meet, and when he pulls Haru’s footing slips to send him stumbling sideways. Rin follows him in, his motion too committed to Haru’s for him to retreat just for the other falling back, and so when Haru’s shoulders rattle against the chainlink fence Rin’s palms clutch for support just over them, his fingers curling into the spaces between the links as if to lock them both together.

“No,” Rin says. His voice is grating in his throat, rasping over the sounds as they pull free from him on the impetus of instinct instead of intent. Haru is staring at him now, his eyes wide and shocked as he gazes at Rin before him, and Rin’s heart is racing like he’s come up for air at the end of a race, like his lungs haven’t realized yet that they can fill themselves at will. “You’re going to swim for me.”

They’re still for a moment like that. Rin’s elbows are locked out to brace him over Haru’s shoulders, his stare fixed full on the other’s face as if to demand his attention; and Haru is giving him back the same in kind, his eyes open as wide as they will go, as if the impact of falling against the fence has knocked free the barrier of uncaring distance that usually stands so clear behind his gaze. Rin can see the color of his hair reflected in Haru’s blue eyes, as if to touch the unreachable bright of the other’s attention with the influence of his own presence. He smells the tang of chlorine in the air, like Haru is carrying the damp of the school pool on his skin everywhere he goes. The taste of it is dizzying, intoxicating as if Rin might still be underwater, his thoughts going hazy with a lack of air, his eyes glittering with the spill of blue that is all his attention can hold to, bright and liquid and shining in the sunlight over him. Rin stares at Haru against the fence before him, at the full force of the other’s attention meeting Rin’s own startled gaze, and then he curls his fingers into the metal of the fence, and he pulls to draw himself forward and press his mouth to the set of Haru’s lips.

Haru doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t turn aside or hiss the inhale Rin had thought he might, when he’s thought about this before, when it was in the realm of hypotheticals instead of immediate, immersive reality. His lashes dip, his mouth softens, and then Rin’s own eyes are shutting to the persuasion of instinct as reflex tilts his head to the side and eases the strain of anxiety from his lips. Haru’s mouth is soft against his, pliant as if surrendering to the force of Rin’s own, but there’s more than passivity there, more than the slack blankness that might match that turned-aside head, that refusal to meet Rin’s gaze. Haru is meeting him, matching him, answering him, and when Rin’s mouth softens on the heat of surprise Haru is the one who tips his head to the side and touches his tongue against Rin’s lips. Rin gives way at once, shocked into capitulation before he can think of it, and Haru leans in against him, licking against the inside of his mouth as Rin is rendered into submission by his own surprise. Haru kisses him thoroughly, tasting at Rin’s mouth and filling the other’s tongue with the heat of his own, until when he lifts his hand Rin thinks at first that the fingers are going to wind into his hair and brace him still for more. But it’s his wrist Haru’s touch curls around, rather than the back of his neck, and when Haru moves it’s to push with startling force, enough to urge Rin back and break the friction of their lips fitting together.

It takes Rin a minute to open his eyes, to collect himself into something like balance. His shoulders feel loose, his whole body languid, as if the heat of Haru’s lips is enough to melt all his tension down to quivering surrender instead. It’s hard to center himself over his feet, even with one hand still braced at the support of the fence over Haru’s shoulder, and then Haru pushes, and Rin’s hand comes free to leave just Haru’s grip on his arm to keep him upright.

“Fine,” Haru says, and it’s a tone Rin’s never heard from him before, with a heat in the water-blue of his eyes Rin didn’t know he had in him. “In that case, I want you to promise me something.” He takes a step in over the distance between them, as if he means to lean in for another kiss, and Rin has to stumble backwards to keep Haru’s mouth from pressing against his again. He isn’t sure he wants to dodge that contact, isn’t sure he would retreat if he had the choice to himself, but his balance is precarious and his feet are skidding, and when Haru shoves against him Rin topples backwards, his shoes scuffing in the dust of the hardpacked dirt beneath them. Haru rocks in towards him, his eyes wide and dark and intent, and Rin goes still, only Haru’s hold at his upraised forearm keeping him on his feet for the focus of that gaze.

“If you lose, don’t say you’re going to quit.” There’s no retreat in Haru’s gaze, none of the indifference that Rin had thought was a bone-deep part of the other’s self. Haru has often seemed placid, with no more force in him than the mild petulance that comes with being irritated out of his comfortable distance; Rin has never seen the storm that is in him now, dark and overwhelming and as insistent as the press of his tongue against Rin’s mouth. “Don’t embarrass yourself.” Rin can’t look away from Haru’s face, can’t even recall how to blink; there is no space for retreat from that certain stare, no part of him that wants to do anything but let that rising wave break over his head and draw him out of himself. Haru’s mouth tightens, his jaw sets. “Don’t cry if you lose.”

All the tension in Rin’s body goes slack in the first moment of shock from Haru’s words. It’s only the grip of fingers still tight around his arm that keeps him on his feet at all, he thinks, but he’s not feeling the press of them, isn’t even thinking about the set of Haru’s mouth so close to his own. All he’s seeing is those eyes, focused and dark with intent and fixed on him,  _ seeing _ him, as they must have seen him all those years ago, when Rin’s own vision was too blurred with the painful heat of miserable loss for him to notice. But Haru was watching him, Haru has been watching him, Haru  _ is _ watching him; and the fingers at Rin’s arm slide around to shift from a push to a hold, and when Haru pulls Rin takes a half-step in to fall over the distance between them again. Haru’s mouth finds his, Rin’s lashes dip over his vision, and for a moment they linger there, lips pressed together while Rin’s heart thuds with shock and pleasure and surprise all fighting for dominance.

It’s only for a moment. Haru’s mouth is soft on Rin’s, his lips fitting warm to Rin’s own; but they have an unfinished race between them, and Rin can’t let himself give in to the friction of contact, however long-desired it may be. So he draws his foot back, and sets his heel against the dirt, and when he rocks his weight away from Haru before him he pulls his arm back too to retrieve himself from the force of Haru’s grip against him. Haru lets him go, his arm falling slack to his side as he opens his eyes to meet Rin’s gaze, and Rin meets Haru’s eyes without ducking away.

“I’m not a little kid anymore,” he says, as if that much isn’t clear from the heat crackling between them, from the taste of Haru’s mouth on his tongue and the print of his lips against Haru’s. “This time, I’ll make it clear how different you and I are.” He takes another step back, just to free himself from the magnetism in the air around them; Haru doesn’t look away, doesn’t so much as blink to ease the tension of their stare. Rin holds his gaze, drinking in the sight of Haru watching him as if it’s the first water he’s had in long years of desert-drought; and then he squares his shoulders and turns aside in one movement.

“Try to build some muscle before the prefectural tournament,” he says, and he steps away with more strength in his stride than he feels himself master of. “We’ll settle things there.” He lifts a hand to wave and tips his head to not-quite look back at Haru standing behind him. “See you at the tournament.”

Rin doesn’t look back to see Haru watching him, but he can feel the weight of the other’s eyes on his back as he walks away as clearly as he can taste the tang of chlorine lingering on the back of his tongue.


End file.
